In Good Spirits
by AmandaFaye
Summary: An old ship mate brings humor to the Muir family Corrected copy


In Good Spirits

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Gull Cottage and its inhabitants. Sean was born in the mind of Tabitha . Bonny Portmoor belongs to Loreena McKennitt, Laura Creamer and a host of traditional ballad singers. Bret Maverick belongs to Abc I think, and Ed Bruce. Tristan is mine, but based in part on Tristan Farnon of All Creatures Great and Small, and also based on Matthew Kolija, and Harry Killgore, my dad. All songs referred to are in the real version, that can no longer appear here. Dashire once was Cashire, but for reasons I won't go into, he's not called that now.

Pausing to look at her typing, Carolyn couldn't believe what she saw. Every word she had typed was there- not one typo in it, if you were standing upside down and looking in a mirror. The letters were upside down and backward.

"Captain!"

A moment later, he appeared. "Yes, Madame? What is wrong- has Claymore done something." She thought a hint of glee accompanied that last statement.

"Not unless he's been monk eying with my typewriter keys- and I don't think he has the skill to reverse and turn them -oh -here- Look."

Ghostly eyebrows shot up as he looked at the paper taken from her hand; he was startled enough by what he saw to not perceive the inherent pleasure of the brief moment when their hands brushed against each other's. "I believe your machine is rather ill, my dear."

"You didn't- I mean I know you hate me working for Mark Finley.."

"I assure you, while my behavior on this matter may have been - a bit out of line, at times, I would never do something so puerile. "

"I didn't think so- but honestly, I don't think a human could do something like this."

"Dashire and Sean never would either," he vouched for his two friends.

"Has Elroy been around- maybe cleaning the typewriter?"

"I've told him he'll fly off the mizzen mast if he touches anything mechanical here. Or that could stain, make tracks, burn.."

"Right."

"However, I had wondered if he was here- my telescope is- reversed. I know you have spoken to the children about touching it- "

"I'm sure they obeyed. They do respect you greatly." Carolyn shook her head, "If I didn't know we were haunted, I'd say we were - --- haunted!"

He gave her an amused look. "I do hope you know by now that ghosts are mostly the most considerate of guests. That would not be something one of us would do- unless it was a mischievous child ghost."

"What a sad thought."

"Indeed, but it has been known to happen, my dear. Rest assured, I shall redouble the watch, and catch the miscreant, of whatever sort. " As he glanced edgewise out the window, Daniel's mouth hardened into a thin line. "I see my duty begins immediately."

Following his gaze, Carolyn cried out, "I thought you were going to be nicer to Claymore."

That stopped him. "Very well, I'll open the door for the lout."

Just as Claymore raised his hand to knock, the door swung open, momentum carried him inside, almost falling. An eerie laugh accompanied it, but so faint that Daniel could not truly be accused of it, and his voice didn't sound quite like his own.

Claymore righted himself, frowning. "You big bully. " Then, he looked up. "It's right there!" His pointing finger was aimed at the barometer.

"Of course it is, after that debacle of your trying to barometer nap my property, and my hard work at retrieving it and keeping you out of prison, where else do you expect it to be?" Daniel fumed.

Claymore swung around to stare accusingly at Carolyn. "You called and said it was missing."

"I did no such thing!" she protested.

By now, Martha was in the room. "What now?"

"She called to say that the barometer was missing - again," Claymore huffed. "And then he attacked me and she denied it."

"Claymore, watch your tone concerning ladies," Daniel warned.

"Claymore, I DID not call you, about that or anything else," Carolyn was adamant. "Why would I?"

That deflated the landlord a bit. "Well, I don't know.. Maybe he impersonated you, like he did me that time to get rid of my furniture."

"I assure you- I have no desire to see your pasty face around here, or elsewhere for that matter," the ghost returned.

"He has a point," Martha agreed. "I'd never expect YOU to invite HIM over."

"I guess Nobody did it- like Nobody changed my keys," Carolyn sighed.

"Someone took your keys? To Gull Cottage? " Claymore looked worried. "Maybe a diabolical thief is setting us up to rob me… Sic'm, Spooky. "

"Sic them?" the ghost rumbled. "I do not sic- like some hound. And who do you presume that I sic if I - if I sicced. "

"Well, I don't know, but … you've got all those powers.." Claymore hemmed. "Well, it's after noon, and I missed lunch to goose chase… on your behalf. So at least feed me."

"Claymore…" Daniel intoned.

"It's all right, Captain," Martha shook her head. "As long as it's all right to give you a sandwich. We're out of caviar and frogs' legs."

"Perfect," Claymore sniffed. "Just cut off the crusts, and I want smooth peanut butter, and loganberry- no- bananas. "

"Yes, your highness," Martha said mockingly. "Be right back."

"I'd like to know who is doing this, "Carolyn stated.

"And nail them to the keel or mizzen haul them- that stuff you're always saying you'll do to me," Claymore added for good measure.

Daniel did not deign to correct him.

Martha returned with the sandwich, announcing, "It's bologna. Fresh out of bananas, and peanut butter."

"What kind of mother are you?" Claymore grumbled, but took it grudgingly. He lifted the free lunch and began to chomp down, then looked down at it.

The sandwich had a mouth - an alligator mouth- and was about to bite HIM.

"Arughnguhana!" he yelped, dropping his meal, unbitten, and fleeing faster than Daniel could have thrown him out.

Martha picked up the perfectly innocent sandwich once they got over the moment, giving it a curious perusal. "What is it with him and my cooking? He ran out of here like a bat out of you know where on New Year's, and today."

"Consider who we speak of," Daniel advised sagely, snapping his fingers. He snapped them again, frowning now. "Scruffy?" Nothing happened. "Scruffy?"

"I haven't seen him all morning," Carolyn added.

"I'll put this in the fridge," Martha said, "for when we find him."

Half an hour later, they found the little guy locked in a storage cabinet in the basement, unhurt, but confused. If there had been any lingering doubts regarding Daniel's relationship with Scruffy, they were canceled when the dog ran to him after being let loose.

"I've never been afraid here before," Carolyn mused aloud as she helped feed Scruffy bits of Claymore's sandwich, "but this…"

"I want you to ring up that young man Dashire employs," Daniel said. "I'd go fetch him and O'Casey myself, but I don't want to leave the family unprotected that long- now that we know someone is out there- I will not let down my guard. However, extra eyes can only help."

"I'll do that," Carolyn agreed, for once not objecting. "But why? We're nobodies."

"Hardly that, but I will allow that no one here is famous or influential," Daniel corrected.

"Or in the mob," Martha contributed as Scruffy took the last bit of bologna. "Watch it, you aren't getting fingers too, little man."

He barked agreement.

Nothing happened until Mrs. Tuttle brought the kids home in the carpool. Candy slammed the door before her brother could enter and stormed up to her room, not noticing her favorite uncles were already there.

"What's wrong?" Martha asked, opening the door for Jonathan.

"Candy told Quinton to tell me that she was never, never , never speaking to me again as long as she lived or more," Jonathan answered glumly.

"Why?" Carolyn asked.

Jonathan shrugged. "Beats me. Last time she acted like this it was some boy, but I thought she'd turned human again."

"I'll go see," Carolyn said. "Go say hi to your uncles."

A grin wiped away the boy's confused depression.

Carolyn knocked on Candy's door.

"I told you, I don't ever want to talk to you again."

"Candy, it's mom. May I come in?"

The door opened slowly. "What's wrong, honey? What did Jonathan do to you?" Carolyn asked, knowing that Jonathan had done nothing, intentionally, but Candy thought so was what mattered.

"He told Paul that I couldn't date until I'm thirty five, and then only if the young man was properly approved. "

Carolyn kept her expression neutral. That did not sound like her son. "When was this?"

"On the phone. Paul said he called me- and a guy answered and told him that- and who else could it be? The Captain doesn't answer the phone."

"What did Jonathan say?"

"He won't admit it."

"Honey, some strange things have been happening - my typewriter was messed with, Scruffy locked in a closet, Claymore- I'm not sure what that was, frankly, but I think you're the victim of another incident. So, will you talk to your brother? I'm sure he wouldn't do that."

"Really?" Candy hadn't liked shutting out Jonathan, after all.

"Really. Come on- Uncle Sean and Uncle Dash are here to help the Captain watch out for us."

"Is it dangerous, mommy?"

"Of course not, sweetie." Carolyn prayed she was telling the truth.

As they came downstairs, Daniel was telling Jonathan and the other ghosts about what happened. Martha handed him the typing, such as it was, Carolyn had produced.

"The incident with young Scruffy reminds me of something," Dashire frowned. "Remember that cat you had, Daniel? On shipboard?"

Sean snapped his fingers, making the little dog look up eagerly.

"No, Scruffy, you've hit the jackpot once today," Martha scolded.

"That's right- this is exactly the sort of mischief Tristan Matthews was so fond of! I'd almost forgotten that."

"Tristan?" Carolyn asked. She'd not heard that name since watching that Richard Burton movie- Lovespell.

"His father was nuts about myths," Sean clarified.

"And the man himself was merely nuts," Daniel added. "I've never had a more irritating, reckless, impudent, worthless.."

"He did keep us entertained," Dashire tried to soften the words.

Daniel's dark glare shut him up. "That miserable--" Thunder cracked.

"Miserable? Is it my fault that you are a bunch of stiff necked, hidebound old fogies?" a voice yelped as its owner appeared in the middle of the group. With a courtly bow towards the ladies, he made introductions, "Tristan Matthews, at your service." Then turning to Daniel went on with his tirade, "Is it my fault that you ran the most boring ship on the seven seas? It was my duty to liven things up."

"Boring!" More thunder rolled.

"Yes, boring." Tristan was nonplussed. "Have you ever been on a cruise ship? I have and let me tell you-"

"So that explains it," Dashire remarked. "Someone needs to issue an official apology to the iceberg- obviously it was the Titanic he haunted. "

"Why you overstuffed, tight--"

"Matthews!" Daniel roared.

"Were you the one who- rearranged my keyboard?" Carolyn asked as diplomatically as possible.

"You have been working entirely too hard- if the machine won't cooperate, then you can't work," Tristan grinned.

"What about Claymore?" Martha asked.

"Yes- him. Well, I've noticed he dares pretend to be a Gregg- obviously, he's not," Tristan said seriously. "It is, thus, my duty to my captain to scuttle the flotsam."

"What did he see in my sandwich?" Mrs. Grant demanded.

"Oh, not much. Just a baby alligator, biting back," he said casually, ending in a giggle.

"Why did you lock up Scruffy?" Jonathan scowled.

"He would have alerted you that I'm here, before I was ready- and I still got found out before I was ready," Tristan sulked. "Had to defend my honor."

Sean snorted, but refrained from comment as ladies and children were present.

"Did you answer the phone?" Candy asked, a hint of true anger in her young voice.

"Well, you are entirely too young and too pretty not to be protected. I know the captain sees you as a daughter, and really- I am sure that he'd never want you to be courted now. My intentions were honorable in every instance."

"WHY are you here," Carolyn asked in an iron tone.

"Dear lady, you have quite a reputation among ghosts- as a writer- a writer. If you can pull a bestseller out of such boring old coots, I know that my story will rocket off the charts."

"The Captain and Sean and Dash aren't boring!" Jonathan protested.

"Ah, but you haven't heard real stories yet," Tristan informed him, a grin lighting his face. He could be considered handsome, in a whimsical fashion, if he wasn't so blasted irritating, Carolyn thought.

"I'm already committed to finishing up Lord Dashire's memoirs, then Sean's," Carolyn protested, hoping that would put him off. "I'm sure that Sean Callahan would be glad to accommodate you- it'll be the Great Ghost Matthews!"

Tristan snorted derisively. "Callahan! I'd no more trust anyone who'd admit to being descended from HIM than I would the devil."

"Met him have you?" Dash asked mockingly, though which him was not clear, on purpose.

Tris ignored him. "I'm willing to wait. This is a nice place," he complimented with a charming smile in his twinkling green eyes. "I don't mind helping haunt it for a while. It'll be fun, like old times."

"Won't your family be worried about you?" Martha tried.

"I'm between haunting sites," Tristan confessed.

"See- told you he sank the boat," Dashire muttered to Sean who could not help but snicker.

"I heard that- the truth is, I had a parting of ways with my last hauntees. They were very unappreciative of my talents as a ghost."

"What did they do - try to exorcise you?" Sean asked.

"Well, they did exorcise me, so I had to move on. Actually, the medium was not much of one, but I decided if they were going to be that rude, I'd just let them live their pallid, bland lives ghost free." At that moment, he looked like a sulky little boy.

Then, he brightened. "So you see, I'm all yours until such time as my story is told- or more. It'll be wonderful, all four of us together again, like the musketeers."

A knock on the door sent Daniel into invisibility, and his two friends stepped into less obvious positions. Tristan was unmoved. Sparing him a wary glance, Carolyn went to open the door, sensing that telling him to vanish might be useless.

A very young man stood there nervously. "Mrs. Muir? Adam Pierce - I'm Lord Dashire's agent?" his nervousness made all his statements questions. "I- I wanted to see if- has he kil- er caught the perpetrator? I-I'm not a criminal lawyer, but thought maybe I should get up here to be ready to defend him if need be, after what he said."

"What did he say?" Carolyn asked.

"That he'd kill the- well, I would rather not say what he called them, it was some English word that I'm not sure if it's fit for ladies to hear- who dared to harass his people. "

"Adam, I'd never use words that you couldn't use around a lady," Dashire called in amused irritation. "But thank you, lad. Come on in. We've caught the fool."

"Excuse me?" Tristan yelped.

"No," Sean snapped.

Adam looked a bit perplexed, but came in anyway. "You're a ghost. Oh good heavens. I told you - I'm not a criminal lawyer- you can't just go killing people, your lordship. I know it might not seem like a big deal to you- since you are still here even though you--"

"Laddie- he came as a ghost," Sean advised.

"He did? Oh, good, I guess. " The young man shook his head, not sure what to do with this information.

"You use a human?" Tristan asked curiously.

"He's very handy," Dashire affirmed.

"Thanks. I feel like a penknife now. Just call me Renfield," Adam sighed, now that the crisis was over as far as he could see.

Carolyn felt the situation getting out of control. "Kids, go do your homework."

"We don't have any- it's Friday," Jonathan said happily.

"Well, Candy, apologize to Jonathan and go - ride your bikes," Carolyn suggested.

"I'm sorry Jonathan, " Candy said, sincerely. "But I really wanted to listen to Shopping Bag- it just came out and --"

"Candy- please," Carolyn said, wanting the kids out of the house for a bit.

"Uh- there's a problem with that, actually, " Tristan said with a weak grin.

"What is the problem?" Daniel asked in that pleasant tone that even Claymore knew was a calm before a storm.

"Well, you see- the bikes are rather not together."

"Not together?" Daniel's tone was still carefully banked. "As in--?"

"The parts are well- apart. Dismantled, heh, heh. "

"You took the children's-" Martha began..

"I'm not a child," Candy whispered.

"Bikes apart?"

Tristan nodded, moving as if to hide behind Sean, who vanished so that he couldn't.

"Renfield, what are the options for filing suit - malicious destruction of property?" Dashire asked.

"What did I start?" the lawyer sighed. "I haven't the foggiest. I've never sued a ghost- and what would you collect? For that matter what judge wouldn't laugh me out of the courtroom?"

"Let's not be hasty," Tristan said. "I can put them back together. Have I told you about the girl I haunted in Texas a few years ago? We perfected this- I took her bike apart- the one she shared with her two sisters- and when she wanted to ride it- I'd reassemble it, but the two sisters never could because I only rebuilt it for her."

His audience looked less than appreciative.

"I suggest that you consider replicating that latter half of the trick," Daniel ordered. "Put the bikes back together. NOW. Then.."

"Then we are inviting Claymore over to be apologized to," Carolyn said firmly. "And you are fixing my typewriter."

"Absolutely- after all- you can't write my story without it. But apologize to that -"

"YES," Daniel interjected. Only he could harass the twit.

"I'll fetch him," Dash offered. "Doubt he'll be willing to come over."

"I'll do it! Adam offered, casting a dark glare at Tristan.

"He doesn't KNOW you," Dashire snapped, popping out to accompany his attorney, knowing Clay would not trust a stranger.

As they left, Tristan made a self deprecatory moue. "I didn't mean it that you guys are boring- but- you must admit- my story is surely enchanting."

Daniel and Sean exchanged glances. "I know, lad," the captain sighed.

"And I will be helpful while I'm here; my work was never something to complain about, was it?"

"No, when you settled down to do it, you performed well," Daniel admitted. "But I think perhaps you should go make repairs for a bit, if you get done, take a stroll until Claymore arrives. Let things cool off some. "

"Right." He vanished with alacrity, taking the typewriter along.

"Is he gone?" Carolyn whispered.

The remaining ghosts looked around. "Aye. He's away," Sean confirmed. "Don't worry yourself, Miss Carolyn. He's a scamp, but there's no real harm in him."

"Can we- " Candy began, then corrected, "May Jonathan and I go listen to my new record, please?"

"If you don't get too loud," Carolyn agreed, glad peace was restored.

"Now, tell us about this boy," Martha asked.

Daniel motioned for them to sit. "He died rather young, as you might have guessed from his chosen appearance. "

"We're more interested in how he lived," Martha put in.

"He signed on at an early age- a runaway, stowed away when we were picking up a cargo in England, " Sean contributed. "Not more than fifteen. Lied and claimed to be older, but confessed- eventually. "

"And he was brilliant," Daniel admitted. "We didn't have IQ tests - but I'd guess he was a genius- but " he searched for the word- "hyperactive. Forever pulling pranks and trying to amuse people. I thought he'd have worked out better joining a traveling circus."

"He's not malicious?" Carolyn asked uncertainly.

"Arrogant, liable to pop off at the mouth, mischievous, yes, but not bad," Daniel allowed reluctantly. "Having Matthews and Applegate crewing at the same time was - interesting."

"In the Chinese curse sense of the phrase," Sean amended.

"Quite."

"Should I agree to write his story?" Carolyn asked. Despite her logical question, her heart had seen a lost little boy in the ghost's eyes and the mother in her felt badly for him.

"It is up to you, dear lady," he said, for once not offering advice in the form of an order. "I would not, but how to use your gift, as you have pointed out before, is your to your judgment."

"I'm sure Dash won't fuss too much- nor will I, if you want to push him to the top of the line," Sean added. "So as to hasten his journey."

"Thank you," she said sincerely. "Though it's hardly fair to you two- and I was making good progress - at least until the typewriter keys turned upside down. I hate to reward him for that."

"Yes, but he might leave it broken until you attend to his needs," Sean pointed out. "If you're willing, it seems a good plan. If all he wants is his story told- then- I'm no writer, but could it hurt?"

"I can't assure it'll be accepted to be published…and the process takes months even after the writing," Carolyn began listing problems with the plan.

"We'll tell him he can stay until you finish getting his notes down- your dad sent you that tape thing for your last birthday,'' Daniel suggested, "but once that's done- he needs to go."

"He did respect Daniel in life,'' Sean added. "Surely he will continue to do so." He did sound a bit iffy on that though. "Blast, I do wish old Hek was here. He'd keep the boy in line. "

"He sailed off in peace, so no luck there," Daniel shook his head.

"Heck?"

"H- E- K, Harrison Edward Killeen," Sean explained. "His initials- but he could live up to them in the right mood. He kept Tristan in line in life rather well, a surrogate dad on ship for him. "

"But he did suggest several ideas to him, " Daniel scowled. "But yes, I saw him go to the light. " He did not tell Carolyn that as much as possible, whenever he could after becoming a ghost, he'd been at his old shipmates' deathbeds, in case they became ghosts so that he could save them from the disorienting shock of being alive- but not.

Tristan appeared then, typewriter in hand. "All fixed."

Still, Carolyn tested it; relieved when the keys typed all right side up.

The wait for Claymore to come back was rather long, it felt like, but eventually, Adam and Dashire led him in.

Claymore looked wary. "They said you wanted to say something to me?"

"Right, but first, you're a lawyer, aren't you - Adam is it?"

The young man nodded unsurely.

"Excellent- can you answer this for me- I've wondered forever, but well, haven't met too many lawyers. What's the difference between illegal and unlawful?"

Adam blinked. "I'm sure there's some fine shade of meaning that differentiates the two words- perhaps Mrs. Muir, as a writer could make it more clearly than I…" he slowly stated.

"Well, the way I heard it- was unlawful is something that goes against the law- but illegal is a sick bird. Dashire, are you sure about this chap?"

"Get on with it," Dashire snapped.

"Right. I'm supposed to apologize to Claymore, yes?"

"Yes," Daniel prompted, his patience thin.

"Very well. I'm very sorry, very, very sorry that you have no sense of humor." Before Claymore could recover, he popped out.

"We didn't get very specific," Carolyn said with a sigh. "Technically, he did apologize. Claymore, I'm sorry that you got involved in this…" she could not find the right word to describe what this was.

"How long is he going to be here?" Claymore asked.

"We aren't sure yet," Sean said.

"Can't he -" Claymore pointed at Daniel, "do to him what he does to me?"

"It's not that simple with ghosts," Sean explained. "But we'll do our best to keep him in line."

"You're still staying?" Carolyn asked in surprise.

"Aye, if you don't mind, Miss Carolyn," Sean nodded with a confirming glance from Dash. "Keeping tabs on Tris is a full time job- we can't abandon Daniel and his crew."

"Never fear, we will be most unobtrusive," Dashire added .

"Don't be silly, of course you don't have to be unobtrusive," Martha scolded.

"Can I go now?" Claymore asked, forgotten in the last few moments. "Before--"

"I'll give you a lift back," Adam offered. "Call me if you need some real help with illegality."

Tristan stayed quiet the remainder of the day until Carolyn called him after dinner to begin the writing. She'd managed to get her article finished, so it made sense to get on with the show. However, as there was no bet going on, at a decent hour, Daniel arrived and sent Tristan onto night watch so she could go to bed.

The smell of sausage and something else that didn't smell very breakfast like awoke them the next morning. Jonathan summed it up when he looked at his plate. "Since when do we eat mashed potatoes for breakfast?" His wrinkled nose conveyed his opinion of that.

"I wanted to help, after all, " Tristan said, "so I made you an English breakfast. Bangers and mash."

Dashire groaned. "Tristan, stay out of dear Martha's kitchen, do you hear me?"

Sean provided Carolyn with a whispered explanation. "When the cook drowned, Tristan took over the galley, said he could cook. We had that meal three times a day for three days until Danny took over the cooking."

"But - this once it was very - kind of you," Martha added.

Tristan's grin of relief almost made the humans feel guilty for any complaints.

Until Carolyn spooned a bit of sugar into her overly strong coffee and gagged on the first sip. "It tastes like PEPPER. "

A glass of ice water floated to her hand as Martha looked at the white substance in the sugar bowl.

"It looks white.."

"White pepper, actually, I forgot about putting it in there yesterday," Tristan smiled weakly. "I'll just go dump it out."

When Carolyn recovered, she managed to say, "Why didn't I try that at New Year's? That would've cured my coffee habit very nicely. Well, not nicely."

"Forgive me, Madam," Daniel apologized.

"You didn't do anything," she protested.

"He is a member of my crew," he replied as if that answered it all.

Tristan returned. "Honestly, I did it yesterday, before you found me. And forgot all about it. Truly."

"We believe you, but no more- got that? " Carolyn coughed, her throat still aggrieved.

"No more pepper in the sugar, I promise."

"I'll get you some real coffee, " Martha said.

"That's the English way of coffee, you see," Tristan gestured at the pot that was being dumped down the drain. .

"We are not in England," Dashire sighed. "And why do you think we all drink tea over there- the coffee is miserable."

"As soon as breakfast is over, I suggest you two get to work," Daniel said in an authoritarian voice that normally, Carolyn would not tolerate being used on her, but in this case, she agreed.

The rest of the day passed in relative calmness. Dashire and Sean began to wonder if they might be safe in leaving, and Carolyn felt very good about they young ghost as she went to bed. Maybe he just needed a family.

A midnight concert of mismatched lyrics put that to the test though.

The medley of insanity broke with a chorus of "Matthews! Tristan! It's bloody, blasted midnight!" as the saner ghosts prevailed.

Daniel appeared in the master cabin a few minutes later.

"I believe he's quieted down for the night, my dear."

Carolyn yawned, wide awake now, despite the gesture. "He does have a nice voice. But I'd prefer it in daylight. I'll never get to sleep now- I wonder about the kids and Martha?"

"Isn't it nice to have ghosts like Dashire, Sean and I around? One word and you can be sound asleep," Daniel answered obliquely.

"I'll take that word, if you don't mind. I trust the kids and Martha are getting words too?"

Daniel nodded with a twinkle in his eye. "Pleasant dreams, dear lady," sending her into them.

Despite the midnight concert, the mortal family was none the worse for wear, though it did appear that Tristan might be. Naturally, Daniel, Sean and Dashire would deny any abuse, but if Carolyn hadn't known ghosts could not get drunk, she'd think Tris had a hangover the way he looked.

On that note, she offered him a decent cup of coffee. Then said kindly, "You do have a good voice, Tristan," despite the glares from Martha and the Captain.

"Not as good as Sean's," Jonathan said bluntly.

"Or the Partridge family," Candy put in, "but good."

Daniel's amusement over Candy's longest lasting crush dissolved his glare. "That's one hurdle you'll never conquer, lad. "

"Did you sing when you were- uh-" Carolyn queried.

"Embodied?" Tristan asked, brightening. "A bit. Mostly, I liked the guitar, and once or twice I've been fortunate enough to haunt a musician so could play some. "

"Really?" Carolyn asked, and Daniel could recognize the sound of feminine wheels in her mind doing a dervish impression. "For the last couple of years, Candy's wanted to take lessons- but the only real music teacher around here is into piano…"

Candy wrinkled her nose and chanted, "Step-ping- up- step-ping -down- then- a- skip."

"Don't care much for scaled do you?" Tristan winked at her.

"No, and I really want to shoot those seven swans," she affirmed.

"Swans?" Tristan looked lost, for a change.

"The workbook for piano has a song about seven swans that has rather - interesting finger work," Carolyn explained.

Martha motioned with her head for Dash to come closer. "I'd gladly shoot them myself," she told him low enough for Candy not to hear.

"But we did get her a -" Carolyn paused, not wanting to use the word child, "junior guitar. "

"I'd be happy to teach her- there's still scales, but well, you've got basic music down from the swans and steps," Tristan enthusiastically offered. "If - that is- your mother can spare me.."

"Well, you can only teach her after school and after homework is done," Carolyn said encouragingly.

"I'd be glad to teach Jonathan too," Tris added.

"Nah. I -" Jonathan remembered his manners, "thanks, but I like sports better."

"Not much help there, chap. I mean, playing a ghost really isn't too fair," Tristan shrugged. "And I never really had a chance to play much, back when. "

"Made up for it jolly well, " Dash whispered to Martha.

"On one condition," Sean announced, clearing his throat, then stepping back for the captain to deliver the edict.

"No more midnight concerts, or two a. m. three a.m. etc. " Daniel warned sternly, realizing that this was going to be as much of a treat to teacher as to student.

"Once all are in bed, I'll be quiet as a --" Tristan began.

"Not mouse, they are not quiet," Martha said, waving her spatula at him.

"Deer, then. They are, unless it's a Disney deer, then they do talk. "

"You go to the movies?" Carolyn asked.

"Of course, invisibly."

"Cool," Jonathan exclaimed.

"Yes, but there is the whole, you've got to be dead aspect that rather detracts from it," Sean noted dryly.

"You can have a lesson later, when chores and all are done," Carolyn promised her daughter. It was harder to tell which was happier with her decree, Candy or Tristan.

Later, when Carolyn had dismissed Tristan so she could write; and it seemed that while repairing his tampering, Tristan had tuned it so that the machine worked better, he took Candy aside to begin lessons.

The elder ghosts were then able to relax and listen over a round of Madeira.

"I'd forgotten how good he is," Sean commented as a rather basic tune was strummed in demonstration.

"Perhaps music is his calling," Captain Gregg thought, rubbing his chin.

"That's the thing I want to discuss with you two," Dashire brought up.

"Music?" the captain asked.

"No, Tristan's calling or what have you. Your lady is a good writer," Dash began.

"No arguments there."

"And I'm sure Tristan has lots of fascinating stories, but telling them to her will only take so long and then he'll have nothing to occupy him. Hang it, he'd have to be immortal to have enough stories to tell her to occupy his time long enough to keep him out of trouble. "

"Well, if he were, we'd not have the problem, would we?" Sean essayed.

"Right. So ,what do we do with him once she's done with him? There's Candy's lessons- yes, but from what I can hear, that may not take too long. Does she have perfect pitch?"

"How should I know?" Daniel asked. He sighed. "Tristan's always been good with children and those who fall into the sidelines."

"True. He and Elroy always got on well," Sean mused.

"That surprised me," Daniel admitted. "I'd have guessed Applegate would be a target for him, not an ally."

"He's in the general area, yes?" Dash asked, tapping a finger on his chin.

"Yes- what are you plotting now, Dash?" Daniel asked with narrowed eyes.

"Problem solving, what else?"

After dinner, Tristan assembled the family to listen to Candy's progress, which, though awkward was noteworthy. At Carolyn's prompting he agreed to play a haunting melody, no pun intended. After a few beats, Sean picked it up, singing along, but the majority of them could only make out a few words.

''Gaelic, " Sean informed them, answering the mystified looks. "Come on, lad, play something I can sing and be understood.

"Bonny Portmoor?" the younger ghost asked.

"I keep telling you, English, Scots and Irish aren't the same thing," Sean complained, but the twinkle in his eyes let on that he wasn't too bothered.

Tristan's fingers began a more upbeat tune so abruptly that Sean barely had time to switch. This time, it was a true sea tune.

Dashire and Daniel joined in, The chorus was more mind bending words in another tongue, then they picked up,.

A few more songs passed before Carolyn decreed that it was time for school children to go to bed. There would be more nights after all. Tristan's short life held many stories.

Dashire did not let her know yet that he had a plan- just in case it failed, he didn't want to anger another ghost by disappointing the lady.

"You want me to do what?" Adam asked with forced patience. Why did this surprise him? Since taking over the practice handed down since his great grandfather had gone into law, he'd had to do a variety of unorthodox tasks- but then, his employer was not what most attorney's expected to have a their main client.

"You are entirely too young to be going deaf, son," Dashire smirked. "Pick up Seaman Elroy Applegate and drive him to Gull Cottage. Oh, and read him these instructions. "

"He can't read?"

"No. Not yet, anyway."

"He crewed with you on Captain Gregg's ship?" Adam pieced together the scenario aloud.

"Yes, I said so."

"So he, too is a ghost, like you."

"Like ME? Hardly," Dashire snorted.

"But a ghost," Adam pressed.

"Yes."

"So, why doesn't he just go pop or poof?"

"You have not met Elroy, so that is a fair question. Let's just say- he's not too good at being a ghost. It is far more efficient to drive him."

"Forty two miles. To a town that has to go a town over to have a post office."

"Yes. I pay your mileage."

Adam raked a hand through his unruly hair. "One of these days, your lordship, I'm going to wake up and then what will you do when the dream ends?"

The ghost just laughed, instructing, "See to it, Adam," as he "popped" out.

So, at the end of Tristan's first week at Gull Cottage, a knock came on the door in the middle of Candy's lesson. The little girl paused to see who Martha let in, ignoring Tristan's mutter of "not him again," on seeing Adam.

"Dashire still haunting you?" Adam asked after making the greeting rounds.

"Right here, " the ghost in question declared, popping in beside Martha. "Where's--"

"Here I am," another voice said.

"Where?" Martha looked around, not sure who she was hearing.

"You have to promise not to vacuum before he'll become visible- and then only if someone can tell him how to get visible again. He forgot," Adam sighed.

"I promise- well, depending on how long you're staying, I have to do it sometime," Martha said.

Daniel appeared. "Applegate- how long did we spend teaching you how to make yourself appear to humans?"

"I know, sir, but it's so hard."

By this time, Tristan had made his way over, peering at the space behind Adam. "Elroy?" A grin broke on his face. "How are you? Appearing is simple, just remember what you look like and think about making us see it. That's right, come on."

Gradually, like an out of focus television picture, the hapless ghost came into view.

"Why did you let him vanish?" Dashire hissed at his attorney.

"A cop siren scared him."

"Where you speeding?"

Adam rolled his eyes. "No. He was after someone in another lane. "

"All right then. "

Turning to Candy, Tristan asked if she minded picking up later, and of course, she didn't.

Carolyn invited Elroy and Adam to stay to dinner; and this was the first time Elroy realized he could eat. He did offer to help Martha, but eventually, she convinced him that he could help her the most by not helping her.

As hours passed, Daniel and the other two "musketeers" exchanged frequent glances as Elroy revealed that despite Captain Gregg's tutelage, he was still rather- well- inept.

When Adam took Elroy home and the rest of the family had gone to bed, Tristan asked to speak to the other three ghosts.

"I'm worried about Elroy," he confessed. "You know, I always liked him. " He scuffed a foot against the floor, exhibiting enough control to actually do so and not merely push his foot through the boards. "Becoming a ghost was- well, a shock at first.."

"I'm sorry- I couldn't find you when you died to tell you what had happened," Daniel apologized. "Not all of the crew was easy to find."

Tristan shrugged. "No worries. I figured it out fast. But after the shock, it was great. Very liberating. I could do and be so much- but it looks like it's not been that for poor Elroy. I'd have thought he'd at least learn to read by now."

No one had an answer, just let him run on.

"Anyway- Candy's making good progress, and the book notes are going great. I can dictate into that machine for hours when Miss Carolyn is asleep. I was thinking, I can put on some speed and - if you don't think it'd offend him, pull up stakes and go teach Elroy how to really be a ghost and to read. It's not that far- I can come back easy enough- without importuning your Adam to drive me too. I mean, I doubt I can teach him enough to ever be truly confident or as ghostly as any of us, but he won't get stuck being visible or invisible one."

"That's a fine idea,'' Daniel encouraged.

"I'll need a few days to wrap up here," Tristan hedged.

"Of course," Sean agreed. "But it's best. Stay too long and you'll have that little girl's heart on a string. "

"Carrying on a fine tradition," Dashire muttered "under his breath".

Daniel shot him a look, showing he'd not spoken as softly as all that.

Tris had the grace to flush a bit. "Yeah, well, she's a sweet kid, but way too level headed to fall for me for long. I've enjoyed learning a bit more modern music from her." He grinned a bit sadly. "I'd best get out that tape machine, and get busy."

More days of relative quiet passed. Though Tris was always good for a joke, albeit some that thankfully the kids didn't get, his pranks were curtailed.

One evening, he asked, "Captain, remember that gambler we picked up in Canada?"

"Came close to losing the ship to him," Daniel admitted ruefully. "Fortunately, he didn't want a ship."

"I was thinking about him and - well, listen. Candy, mind using the tambourine to provide a counterpoint?" Tristan asked, and she didn't. They'd been working on it, but being asked was nice of him.

"Too many dusty trail towns, too few and far between, tired saloons and saw dust covered floors. Too many one more showdowns and aces over queens, winning's just a way of keeping score. My old pappy always told me your fate is in your hands, stand pat or draw, it's yours to choose. Luck don't have a thing to do with how you play the game- Maverick didn't come here to lose. Maverick didn't come here to lose."

"I'd forgotten how he was always quoting his old pappy, " Dashire frowned. "Wonder what became of Bret?"

"Hear he won a saloon and settled down," Sean remarked.

"I never took any of you for riverboat gamblers," Martha commented.

"He charmed us all into a friendly game," Daniel said in their defenses.

"Maybe I could find his ghost for another novel?" Tristan suggested. "He could play the ninny for Gull Cottage and then let Mrs. Muir have it."

"I think it'd be too hard to get Claymore to play," Carolyn dissented.

"Besides, " Candy sighed, "if he plays cards like he does Monopoly, we'd owe him."

Carolyn did not like the gleam in Tristan's eye.

When Tristan's time was up, it was not without a few misty eyes all around.

"Now, Candy, if you should happen to ever need a date, just give Uncle Tris a ring," he told her. "I'll be here in two shakes. Though, given that you are your mum's daughter, I doubt you'll be calling me on that." He winked. "And I will return, sometime. You never know WHEN though."

And he was gone as suddenly as he came.

Dash and Sean stayed to dinner, to celebrate peace or commiserate missing the imp one. Besides, it was raining, and though it wouldn't affect them to travel in it, it did bother their humans to send them out in it.

Just as they sat down, a knock came on the door.

"Think he's back?" Candy asked, almost hopefully.

"I doubt he'd knock," Daniel smiled.

Martha let Claymore in a moment later.

"What are you doing out here?" she asked a bit acerbically.

"Nice to see you two," he chattered.

"I second the question," Daniel called.

"It's already raining- ah choo- Spookface, so what can you do?"

"Don't tempt me."

"Sit and tell us what happened to bring you out on a night not fit for man or beast," Dashire placated as Martha took his coat and ruined hat.

"Ah, shoes," Sean stopped him. "Leave them by the door- I know for a fact Martha mopped today, and you'll ruin it."

Grumbling, Claymore obeyed and took off his new, for him, shoes. They'd never shine again after what he'd been through.

One of the ghosts, who did not identify himself, floated a batch of towels to Martha so she could hand them to him to dry off.

"First, where's that poltergeist," Claymore asked angrily.

"Poltergeist?" Carolyn asked.

"Noisy spook. I looked it up."

"So, you've been reading these last few weeks that we've not seen your miserable hide lurking around?" Daniel asked.

"Where is he- Tristan?" Claymore went on insistently.

"He left this afternoon," Candy said, a bit unhappily. Jonathan rolled his eyes.

"Coward."

"What are you nattering on about?" Daniel demanded impatiently.

"He's responsible for this," Claymore declared.

Sean took a look outside. "No, lad, this weather's natural. Trust me on it."

"I'll vouch for that," Dashire added.

"He knew it'd be raining then," Claymore sulked.

"Would you explain and stop pouting and puling!" Daniel snapped, adding thunder to the rain.

"That was him," Sean informed any who doubted.

"Could I have some brandy?" Claymore asked, chattering his teeth for effect.

"No," Daniel scowled. "You have to drive home in this, and I won't have you joining the ghostly fraternity."

"I'll get some coffee for you, Claymore," Martha offered, debating whether or not to make it the instant they still had from his trip at New Year's.

"Okay."

When she was back, he began. "I got a call from this foreign gentleman, at least I thought it was a gentleman, some German guy, or I thought it was a German, who sounded rich.."

"Does rich sound any particular way?" Sean wondered aloud.

He was ignored. "Anyway, he gave me directions - long complicated ones, I have them written down," Claymore took from his pocket a sheet of cheap notebook paper, frowning at it, "well, they were on here, but the rain.. Anyway, it was complicated. I made about fifteen turns and drove thirty miles, it's on the odometer, somewhere. "

"Why?" Carolyn asked, baffled.

"Oh, right. Well, he said he had some valuable property to sell and wanted to use me- but he was going back to the Motherland tomorrow - so I had to meet him tonight. He claimed it was worth fifty thousand dollars, and the commission on that would be 7500 dollars! Plus, I'd get the fees for this that and the other thing, you know, the detail work that the county- Moi, gets paid. Well, I drove out, even though I normally make it a policy to not drive out into the country near dark. Dark came quicker tonight, I guess the rain made it dark. By the time I got there, it wasn't raining too hard, but by the time I'd gotten - one , two, ten, about a hundred steps from the car, it began coming down cats and poodles. I couldn't see a house, but I kept on going, because I needed to call the garage…"

"Why?" Carolyn prompted.

"Well, just as I pulled up to the place, such as it was, a nail or something made my tire blow out, and I don't have a spare. Besides, it was on a dirt road, and would've been stuck anyway. And I didn't want to get my suit dirty, it's dry clean only. Guess that's why it was so cheap at the goodwill store. So, I kept going, and going, but there was no house anywhere." He sighed deeply. "Then - I saw a light, and followed it, and next thing I knew, Martha was opening the door."

"So, what does Tristan have to do with this?" Carolyn asked, wanting to believe the best of him.

"He must have been the fake German," Claymore said with remarkable astuteness. "Trying to get me to sell my own property, no that didn't come out right, I own the property he wanted to sell through me, and it's not that far as he claimed after all. Ah choo, unless you take that back road that twists and turns going nowhere. I bet he made it rain even, and put the nail in the road."

"Well, he's gone, " Carolyn said, not sure what else to say.

"But he left something," Jonathan piped up, fishing in his pocket, coming up with rubber bands, rocks, marbles and other flotsam before bringing out a tape. Some days, Carolyn swore that Jonathan's pockets were like Merlin's suitcase, full of more than possible. "He said to play it after he was gone- I thought it'd be just more of his and Candy's music. "

Not wasting time to get the machine, Dashire just waved at the tape; Tristan's voice came out as if from the tape recorder.

"Hello, all. First off, this is not good bye, I will be back, sometime. Second, is Claymore there? I'm sure he is by now. April fool. Yes, I know, this is not April. But- you would be expecting it then, and where's the fun of that? Now, do you see what greed gets you, you miser? Ta."

Daniel's laughter rang over the storm.


End file.
